I Don't Want to Go Back Alone
by ofLadyTauriel
Summary: The life of Merlin, a blind teenager, completely changes with the arrival of a new student at his school. At the same time, he has to deal with his jealous childhood friend Will and understand the feelings aroused by his new friend Arthur.


**Author's Notes: This fic is completely based on the short film Eu Não Quero Voltar Sozinho. The dialogue, summary, and title are completely ripped off from this short film! You have to go watch it. They've made it into a full movie, Hoje Eu Quero Voltar Sozinho, which will be released in countries besides Brazil soon.**

**Thanks so much to LarielAris for beta-ing my work. She says it's her first time, but she did an incredibly awesome job.**

**This is written for the Week 2, Day 4 prompt for Team Arthur of the BBC Merlin Fest on Tumblr. _Merlin and Arthur: This relationship, whether you ship it or not, is incredibly important and paramount to the show. This is why it has its own separate prompt. There are many aspects to Merlin Arthur's relationship. Which part do you like the most?_ I'm very, _very_ late. I had finals, AP tests, and all that jazz. So sorry!**

Merlin is typing away at the assignment at hand, on his Braille typewriter, feeling the patterns of the alphabet unfold underneath his fingertips. When he first learned to type, starting at around five years of age, he had to practice with an annoying cautiousness. It took him ten years to get over the fact that he can't even see himself making a spelling error. He had to rely on his parents or teachers to mention it after he turns in his homework. He also has to slow the fuck down and choose precision over speed). Now, he brushes his fingers over each letter after finding it with muscle memory, making sure that it hasn't miscalculated and that he's landed on his letter of choice. Whenever he types to the paper's margin, the typewriter emits a little _ding_, indicating that it's time to change levels. Now, here's that _ding_ again, and suddenly the whole class chants, "Elevator up!" It's the sound that the elevator makes at Erebor High, see, making Merlin the bud of a friendly joke. It makes him smile.

"Is the joke really that hilarious, guys?" asks Merlin's best mate, Will, who is sitting to his left. "You do it almost every day. I would think you'd get bored by now."

Will, bless him, is the most supportive friend that a blind person can ask for, but sometimes his help does more harm than good. Merlin wants to feel normal, and having the world tip-toe around him all the time isn't going to make that happen.

"Settle down, please!" the teacher exclaims. "No messing around until the bell rings. Actually, before you leave, I think our new student should introduce himself."

"I don't think that's necessary," a male voice mutters from the seat directly behind Merlin. It immediately draws Merlin in. The boy is a tenor, and he speaks slightly defiantly in a mainland British drawl, different from Merlin's Northern one. It reminds him of lying in fresh morning grass, feeling sunlight warm his skin.

"Of course it's necessary!" the teacher continues. "Here, come on up and introduce yourself."

The boy stands and makes his way through the isle, the rest of the kids snickering slightly. Merlin feels a rush of warm air as the boy passes.

When the boy stops in front of the class he speaks, his tenor voice like honey to Merlin's ears. "Hello," he says. "My name is Arthur Pendragon."

"Heeey, Arthur!" the class drawls, mocking their standard greeting with the teacher.

"I just moved here from Camelot and Camelot High."

The whole class snickers after a heartbeat, and Merlin finds himself leaning towards Will. "What is it? What happened?"

"Someone threw a paper airplane at Arthur," Will tells him. "Suits him right, I say. He looks like an utter twat."

Merlin slaps him lightly on the arm. "Will, if I've learned anything from our friendship, it's that 'utter twat' means 'perfectly nice human being'."

"No, it doesn't! It's true this time. He looks like us like we're lowly peasant, and he's some aristocratic nobleman."

"Isn't that a sound comparison, though?" Merlin asks. "We kind of are peasants, while Camelot High School gets renovations with glass doors and new iPads every other year."

"He doesn't have to act like it." Will mutters.

The bell rings, and the shuffling begins all around him, ignoring the teacher's final words, as always. Merlin puts away his typewriter, and then waits for the sea of students to pass. As usual, Will is walking him home before returning to his own house. The only difference is the shuffling in the seat behind him. It's Arthur, who's still here.

Will jostles his arm with his own, offering it to Merlin for their standard walk home. "Let's go?" he asks. Merlin concedes, standing, but his thought with his thoughts are on Arthur, who lingers in the classroom behind them.

Will notices Merlin's hesitance, stopping them in the doorway and turning to look over his shoulder. Merlin can feel it in the strain of the muscles in Will's left arm. "Where do you live?" Will asks warily.

"Um, just down the street, actually," Arthur responds. There is contemplation in the fluctuation in his voice, and it rings through Merlin's ears like a slightly sharp G: the note he always just wants to correct whenever he hears it, anywhere.

"Do you wanna come with us?" Will asks.

Merlin feels proud of Will for finding that drop of decency and manners to ask the question. By his words and tone of voice, Will doesn't like Arthur much. On the other hand, Will doesn't like _anyone_, so for him to invite the new student to walk home with them Arthur must really be that lonely, pitiful, and nonthreatening.

"Sure," Arthur responds nonchalantly, and Merlin can hear the shrug in his voice. It's an extremely expressive voice, really. Merlin can feel it reverberate through his eardrums like he can feel the letters press themselves into the tips of his fingers.

"Let's go, then," Will says haughtily, pulling Merlin with him through the doorway. He can hear Arthur run to catch up to them. He smiles, eager at the prospect of getting to know a new friend.

The trio walk their usual path in the destination of Merlin's home, listening to Arthur tell them of who he is, how it was in Camelot, through light jokes and anecdotes. Apparently, his father, Uther Pendragon, as a CEO of a social working business company, has just transferred the headquarters of the company from Camelot to Erebor to create it better opportunities and success. Being the CEO, he had to move, taking Arthur with him. Arthur has an older step-sister, Morgana, too, but she's a year older and has just started Camelot University. She isn't here with them in Erebor. Arthur doesn't know what path he's going to follow yet - business, possibly soccer, or something else entirely. For now, he's here with Merlin and Will to finish Erebor High School.

They get to Merlin's home safe and sound as always. Merlin knows, because he feels Will pull him to a stop in the patch of shade that indicates to from the tree that Hunith, his mother, planted outside their home in his childhood. Merlin reaches into his pocket for the keys. He gives them to Will, so that he can open the door for him. Little thing like these, they don't bother him. Merlin knows when it's proper to reject help, and when it's downright dimwitted. He picked his battles with both Hunith and Will long ago.

"See you tomorrow, Merls," Will says, slapping his arm, almost causing Merlin to run into the brick wall of their simple block of flats. He shakes himself off quickly, turning in the direction he can still sense Arthur standing, and extends his arm in an aim that he tries to make as accurate as possible. The fact that he wants to shake Arthur's hand has everything to do with the fact that he's a gentleman, thank you very much, and nothing to do with the fact that he wants to grasp Arthur's hands, feel their the shape, let his fingers rest against the contours.

"Have a nice day, Arthur," he says, waiting for the handshake to be returned. Merlin can feel the hesitance, the little half a heartbeat for Arthur to regain his bearings and accept the arm that is probably a bit too high or too low to be coming from someone with sight.

However, Arthur doesn't comment, doesn't voice whatever thoughts regarding Merlin's blindness that are running through his mind, and for that, Merlin is grateful. Instead, he says, "Nice meeting you, Merlin," accepting the arm, squeezing lightly before pulling away. Merlin notices. The palm of his Arthur's hand, upturned, is rough along its edges, worn out from falling on them during soccer, which was a sport that Arthur mentioned that he played. His fingers are thicker than Merlin's, but just as long. Boney knuckles give way to long, elegant, fingertips, and their touch linger on Merlin's own as they slide past one another while they're pulling away.

When he dreams in the night, it's about those fingers dancing over his skin, pulling him out of the perpetual darkness and into something he's come to imagine as light.

Merlin lies on the floor in a hallway on the upper floor level of his school building. His head is in Will's lap, and it's not awkward. Merlin's more than little off of the straight mark, actually, but they never talk about it. Like, at all. There was a point in their childhood when Will wanted to hold Merlin's hand, and Merlin let him, because he didn't know that it could be anything more than friendship. Hand-holding stopped, but it transitioned into harmless hugs, touches, hand raking through the hair, like Will is doing to Merlin right now. Some people think they're together, but that's an impossible thought. Will is Merlin's type of friend, not relationship partner, and besides: he's probably really straight and just pitying Merlin and his need for physical comfort, which he doesn't have from anyone else besides Hunith. So when Will rakes his fingers through Merlin's hair, he doesn't mind. It's soothing, relaxing. It grounds him to the cold ground that lies just underneath his thin t-shirt, keeps his mind from floating away, up into the clouds that he imagines feel like thick, cool mist.

"Did you know that Freya was totally staring at you after the maths exam today?" Will is asking. "She totally has the hots for you, has had 'em for a while."

"You know I'm not interested in Freya," Merlin chided him absently. Will always talks about girls, and Merlin doesn't have the heart to tell him that he's not interested in the discussions, not in the slightest. Evidently enough, Will finds it extremely amusing to tell Merlin about all of the girls in his class, though, from that one that he chased around while Merlin was sitting at his desk like the good student he was, to the one who checked Merlin out while he was taking an exam, apparently. Merlin lets him, because Will's excited banter makes him laugh. He knows he really should have that discussion with Will soon about how he only likes guys, but something's holding him back. Maybe it's the fact that friends are technically supposed to know these things, or maybe it's that he never thinks it'll be necessary. Maybe it's that there's no one out there for him to truly love that way and for them to reciprocate.

"You're never interested in anyone, Merlin," Will huffed. "It isn't fair, 'cause you're no fun at all. I'm deeply offended, actually. I always tell you about the recent girl I just banged, or at least tried to bang. Without, you know, pressure. I don't go for nonconsensual, I assure you. Anyway, it's about time you share some of your own secrets with me. After all, we're best mates! I should know your deepest, darkest thoughts."

Merlin wants to tell Will, right then and there, that he's gay. But there's that thick barrier again: something lodged in his throat, or standing in front of the tip of his tongue. Maybe it's too much, having a boy who's both gay and blind for a best friend. It's a sad thought, that Will might be disturbed over learning such a personal thing - his best friend's sexuality -, but Merlin doesn't want to take any unnecessary chances just yet. Instead, he says, teasingly, "Maybe it's that I can't conveniently sleep with any girl I please, like you."

Will slaps him playfully on the shoulder. "You know perfectly well that that's not what I meant, Merlin. Besides," he begins with an airy tone, "I'll have you know that if you put your mind to it, you could get any girl, really. You're quite the man of looks, if that's of any consolation. I wish there were any way for you to know."

"I understand," Merlin rushes to say, unwilling to let the mood turn sour. "And hey, I haven't noticed you pursuing anyone in particular over the last few months. Has anything changed? Have you - _you_, Prince William the Lady Conqueror of Erebor High - suddenly decided to abstain?"

"Shut up," Will muttered, and it was almost too low for Merlin - would have been, if not for his heightened hearing from being blind - to hear over the sound of sneakers padding their way. They were Arthur's, Merlin realised, a little surprised at having recognised Arthur's walk so early on in their friendship. Usually it took at least a week for him to discern the walk of a certain individuals just by sound. It was as if everything within him - his eardrums, his whole body, maybe even his heart - was as attuned to Arthur as an old, well-used instrument was to its caring master.

"Hey, guys," a voice says nonchalantly, and Merlin's right: it's Arthur, always Arthur. "Can I sit with you?"

"Sure," Will responds, less on guard than the day before, which is incredible progress. At this rate, with Will moderating his fight-or-kill tendencies, the three of them will even make an unlikely trio of friends. "Merlin, Christ, sit up so the man can sit!"

Merlin complies, and immediately feels air brush over his arms from the strength of Arthur's plop on the ground. The air causes shivers to form, which make his hair stand on end. It doesn't fall, though, when his skin tingles from the proximity between his and Arthur's bare arms. It feels as if he's been shocked, as if the electric current continues to run through him. Arthur is sitting next to him. He's so close. He _right there_.

"So, what did you think of the exam?" Arthur asks both of them. "I thought it was fine, really. I get this calculus topic more than others, so I felt prepared going into it."

"Freya most certainly wasn't prepared," Will mutters to Merlin's right, wincing when Merlin accurately nudges him with his elbows. "I think I did okay."

"Same, but I like maths," Arthur responds. "But it was just a quiz, anyways. What about you, Merlin?"

"Oh, Merlin absolutely _detests_ calculus," Will jumps in for him. "He flunks every quiz. Don't you, Merlin?"

Merlin's cheeks burn; he can't handle being embarrassed like that in front of Arthur like that. What is Will even thinking? Oh right, not the fact that Merlin can possibly be into "that royal prat". Yeah, he doesn't like calculus: the method to finding general equations for differentials just doesn't seem that important to him, in comparison to studying medicine, biology, world history, and more. His brain just isn't built for complex maths. "You try making derivations in Braille, Will. Whatever, It was just a quiz, anyways."

"You should tutor him," Will continues to Arthur, ignoring Merlin completely. "There's a test coming up in two weeks, and it's a big portion of everyone's grade."

No, no, _Will_, what are you doing, _what are you doing_? Merlin's too shy, too unused to people who are not Will or his mother, too something or other to make it easy for Arthur in their tutoring sessions. He's just going to be a burden.

He opens his mouth, about to point out just that, but then closes it immediately, realising that Arthur is here. He _definitely_ doesn't need to hear Merlin's self-pitying speech. Just in time, however, he feels Arthur nodding and hears him saying, "Yeah, I can do that. I'll suffer derivations in Braille with you, Merlin, how about that?"

Merlin nods, biting his lips when he tries and fails to keep down his smile.

They truly become friends after that. Arthur spends all of his free time with them, walking home with them and staying in Merlin's home for tutoring sessions. It's no longer just Will and Merlin. It's Will, Merlin, and Arthur, practically everywhere. When they're walking down to Merlin's cottage house, humming tunes under their breath and laughing at each other's taste in music; when they're doing homework in Merlin's room, either helping each other or just concentrating in silence, side by side; when Hunith smiles at them knowingly and conspiratorially as she feeds them cookies; when they're playing hide and seek in Merlin's room, which he knows well enough to locate them.

Sometimes, however, they're not Will and Merlin and Arthur, but just Merlin and Arthur. No matter how close Will is to Merlin, sometimes he does his own thing. He plays guitar in a neighbourhood band: Merlin has listened to them sometimes. He helps his own mom take care of his grandparents, who are both not in their greatest shape these past few years. He likes to mess with electric tracks, doing arrangements on his laptop to send in for disco dances: it's a way that he gains money. He walks Merlin home everyday without fail, yes, offering his arm to Merlin like the anchor he is in his dark world. Arthur comes with, and that's when things change. Merlin will be doing his math homework, reading about theorems in the quiet amidst their studying. On the occasion that he asks Arthur a question, Arthur will crouch _right next to him_, touching his arm gently to signify his presence and murmuring in a low voice. And then it's just Merlin and Arthur.

It's a normal day, a few months after Arthur comes to Erebor High, when Merlin realises that he can't hold in the endless questions about Arthur any longer. He knows the feel of Arthur's well-washed t-shirt under his fingers, when he reaches in the direction of Arthur's shoulder to get his attention. He knows the sinewy muscles that span in his biceps and triceps, stemming from his thin yet sturdy elbows. He knows the way Arthur's pulse flutters underneath his fingertips in the delicate spot on the underside of his wrist when Merlin takes it, guiding his wrist over his books to laughingly show him what it truly means to do derivations and integrations in Braille. Merlin knows that Arthur smells like new paper books; like mist on a cloudy day; like fresh grass in the morning. However, despite the strength of Merlin's four working senses, one will always be lacking.

"Will," Merlin says, prodding him with his elbow. They're standing together, leaning on the railing of the second level of the school building, where it overlooks the bottom level. It's their usual spot. "What does Arthur... look like?"

"Look like?" Will repeats, appearing lost in thought himself.

"Yeah," Merlin says, exhaling. "Like, his facial features and... well, everything."

"Well, he's a little taller than us. He has wide, sturdy shoulders and narrow hips. He has sharp cheekbones and nose. An annoying smirk on his lips most of the time, and his eyes are quite a piercing blue. His hair is light and unruly, often sticking out at all angles all the way to the nape of his neck. When you think about it, actually, he's quite a handsome guy. Oh, and he's coming this way."

Merlin smiles to his left, where he hears Arthur's footsteps approaching. He contemplates the information that Will has presented him. Merlin has enough experiences with people trying to describe him colours throughout his lifetime, thinking he will understand what they look like after they use examples of what objects are usually this colour, before realising themselves that Merlin can't actually see this objects. It's frustrating and upsetting, being reminded of all that he's missing in the world. He imagines that living without understanding the concept of colour is like eating food for nutrition, but food that never has a slightest taste. But Merlin knows that the sky is a light blue, so when he thinks of Arthur's eyes, he thinks about the cold air outside when he goes outside in the morning, when the sunlight warms his skin just slightly to ward off the chill. When he thinks of the colour blue, all he can imagine is light. He hasn't seen light, either, but he has been told that what he sees is blackness, which the light contrasts. He imagines that it feels exuberant and vibrant, more exciting that all of the nothingness that lingers in Merlin's eyes. If Arthur's eyes are like the light and the sky, they must be something.

They walk toward Merlin's home as usual, Merlin being pulled along down the road in Will's wake and Arthur rushing to keep up with them. A thing about Will is that he always practically running everywhere, never even slowing down to smell the flowers. There is neither strolling nor relaxing whilst walking home with Will. Today, however, Arthur stops Will about two blocks away from Merlin's home.

"Will, don't you live on this block?" Arthur asks. "I can take Merlin home from here, if you like."

Will's grip tightens only minutely on Merlin's lower arm, where he's grasping it, but Merlin notices. "I don't think it's necessary," he says, sounding extremely reluctant.

"Are you sure?" Arthur asks genuinely. "I live in that direction anyways."

"Will you be okay with it, Merls?" Will whispers, leaning closer towards Merlin. Merlin nods, his heart already soaring in his chest at the prospect of being alone with Arthur.

Will exhales. "Thank god! Because I really need to go to the bathroom. Bye guys!" With that, he runs off to Merlin's right, in the direction of his home.

Merlin feels silence envelop him and Arthur as soon as the footsteps fade away, but it isn't uncomfortable. Instead, it's nice: Merlin basks in it. Arthur offers his arm, but Merlin drags him around from his left side to his right with a smile. He always feels more comfortable when his right hand is the one that is grounded to another individual. Merlin feels Arthur's biceps underneath his palm and fingertips, and he's horrified at the thought that he has to consciously think about preventing himself from squeezing them in appreciation. The muscles there are thicker than Merlin's, and harder than Will's. Merlin knows from being best friends with Will, that the latter's favourite thing to do is to be a couch potato and do absolutely nothing but watch the telly. Merlin, being blind, can't work out in fitness gyms himself, but he's not adverse to doing pushups and situps for a few hours of free time in a an empty spot in his room. He has some muscle, too, but he's skinnier than Arthur, whose arms flex just slightly from Merlin's touch. Arthur stands in place, not moving forward, and Merlin wonders if he can feel it, too, that sizzling, restless energy between them.

"Are you still there?" Merlin asks, chuckling.

"Yeah," Arthur responds with a hint of something strange in his tone after swallowing.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

That night, Merlin hugs himself tightly and wonders what it would be like to feel Arthur's arms in another setting, one that he can barely let himself envision just yet.

They're in their history class, studying Ancient Greece, when the teacher announced that it's the time to do another stupid research project on Sparta and Athens. Merlin's not excited at all. Projects are a completely terrible waste of time, and working with Will, like he usually does, is just going to end up turning into all conversation and no work. However, the teacher says that it's an absolute must to work with someone with whom one hasn't worked before, and Merlin has only worked with Will. Will leans away from Merlin's desk with a whine, and Arthur taps his shoulder from the seat behind him. Merlin extends his hand over his shoulder for a fist bump, which Arthur returns with a laugh. Suddenly, the prospect of two week-long dual research doesn't seem so bad anymore. And anyways, Merlin and Arthur have always worked strangely well together.

After school, when Will sits down next to Merlin and Arthur, who are already sitting at their spot at the balcony, it's with an annoyed huffed. He's still sulking over the fact that he can't work with Merlin, it seems. "I have to work with Freya. _Freya_, can you believe it? It's like the universe is pointing and laughing at me again."

"There's nothing wrong with Freya, Will," Merlin reminds him again. "She's a perfectly sweet and intelligent girl. I've spoken to her before. It'll be completely fine."

"I know, but..." he trails off, appearing to not have any response to that. "Whatever. She wants to go to the library right now to work on it. Where are you guys doing yours?"

"At my place."

"Ugh, fine," Will grumbles, standing up. "See you later, then."

He stalks off, leaving Merlin and Arthur sitting quietly side by side. Merlin is reading a book, _Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe_ in Braille, and he's laughing silently while running his fingers over the page, some of the quotes amusing him to no end. Arthur must be watching, because he's quiet as Merlin continues to read the page.

"Have you always been like this?" Arthur finally asks.

"What, dark haired?" Merlin jokes, in a good mood. "Or blind?"

"Blind, dimwit," Arthur responds fondly, chuckling as well.

"Since I was born."

"And... How is it? I know it's not easy, but is it okay?"

"Not all the time. I get angry at the world, God, the universe sometimes, you know, for making me like this and for forcing me to endure these setbacks all my life. But then I remember that everyone gets angry, too, even if it's for littlest things. Things, which are less life altering than blindness. It doesn't upset me that people concern themselves with little things anymore, not like it used to, when people complained to me about their lives. Instead, it just tells me that sometimes, it's okay to be angry. And that helps me accept myself and helps me deal with it."

"I don't know what I would do if I were blind," Arthur says quietly.

"You'd get used to it, of course," Merlin says, sipping from the little juice box that Hunith packed for him today, while Arthur takes the book from Merlin's lap to inspect the unfamiliar lettering. "Besides, there are some advantages to blindness. For example, people always do you lots favours!"

After a moment, Arthur asks, "So, you've never seen Will's face?"

"No, I haven't," Merlin says lightly, a carefree smile still splayed on his face. He knows the contours of Will's face, of course, in full detail. His fingers have run over his forehead, nose, cheeks, eyelids many, many times throughout their childhood. It is in their teenage years that Merlin stopped it, knowing that it will no doubt embarrass Will to have Merlin caress his face in front of other classmates. However, each trace of a finger or even of a full palm takes into account only one aspect at a time, fitting the pieces of a face together like the makings of a puzzle. The only difference is that for Merlin, there will never be a final, put-together puzzle which he can look at and understand the picture that it's supposed to make.

"I see," Arthur says. "He's a funny guy, Will. Actually, I've been meaning to tell you, Merlin: I think he likes you."

"Likes me?" Merlin asks, sitting up in alarm. The statement is so unusual that it surprises him. Is there a reason for Will to dislike Merlin? "Of course he does! He's my best friend."

"No, Merlin, that's not what I meant," Arthur responds, amused. "I know that you're friends. I mean, he's into you."

That is even more concerning for Merlin than the previous statement for Merlin, as it almost questions the whole foundations of their friendship. Merlin's fear of coming out to his best friend, coupled with his worry over Will's comfort at their persistent closeness, now appears to be absolutely for nothing and replaced with a completely different problem entirely. It is impossible to believe. "That's basically more than impossible," Merlin tells Arthur.

"I know you don't see it, but the way he looks at you... I didn't try to dwell on it, but it seems more than friendship by a long mile."

"Oh, stop," Merlin scoffs. He wouldn't know, of course, but if he can't trust his ability to discern love from friendship in tones of voiced, what can he trust?

Arthur complies, but after a moment he asks, "And you? Are you interested in him?"

"No," Merlin says with a shrug. Merlin wants to elaborate, to explain that that is not in any way an indication of his sexuality and availability, but he does not know how to breach the topic of that bit that is always on Merlin's mind. He hopes he does not have to be wary of breaking Will's heart, because Merlin's own is beating for Arthur. However, the prospect of Will being interested in him is so far from Merlin's perception of normalcy, so he pushes it completely out of his mind.

"I see," Arthur says, quiet once again. Merlin wishes that he can see the expression of his face, as they are said to easily reveal what a person is thinking. Unfortunately, he can't, so silence falls upon them once again.

When they arrive at Merlin's house, Merlin can't bear the feel of the scratchy uniform polo on his bare skin. He opens his wardrobe, well-familiar with its position in the corner of his tiny room, and takes out a random t-shirt. Anything that feels more comforting to the touch than the uniform will do. He pulls off his uniform polo, throwing it in the general direction of his mini-sofa. "That's better," he sighs, pulling the t-shirt over his head. After a moment, Arthur makes his way farther into Merlin's room from where he is standing in the doorway. "Phew!" he says in an over exaggerating manner. "It's quite hot in here."

"Well, obviously, for you," Merlin says, laughing. "You're wearing a sweatshirt."

"Merlin, how do you know I'm wearing a sweatshirt?" Arthur asks, a hint of incredulity in his voice, mixed with an obvious smile. Merlin loves listening to smiles in general.

Someone once told Merlin that they were sorry that he never has the opportunity to see happiness written across someone's face with a single smile. They were wrong, however, because he doesn't have to see the smile to embrace the happiness that always radiates from people when they smile, grin, or laugh. He hears it in their voice; the way it colours their every word and tonal inflection. He memorised the shape and sound of his mother's smile and of Will's before he could even talk, and he can recognise it whenever someone is grinning from ear to ear. Merlin knows the sound of Arthur's smile as well as he knows the sound of rain pattering on the window pane, and he knows that he will recognise it in either a lifeless desert or in the depth of night. It sings a song in his heart, and Merlin thinks that it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

"There, I took it off now. Merlin, I have to go to the loo. Is there one I can use?"

"Yes, of course," Merlin responds, moving to sit down at the chair at his desk. He feels the sweatshirt hanging on the back of the chair behind him. He pulls it from behind himself to place it on the table, his touch lingering on the familiar velvet, like when he held on to Arthur's arm as they walked home. "Third door to the left."

As soon as Merlin hears Arthur pad down the hall, he succumbs to the overpowering need to take Arthur's sweatshirt in hand; to grant the thousands of nerve endings in his palm their desire to connect with the silky texture of the velvet. It reminds Merlin of Arthur; it has an feeling of royalty that is customary of velvet, and that is similar to the air that Arthur omits through his constant gentleness and understanding. It's as soft as his voice when he speaks to Merlin with a quiet hush. Merlin retreats his hand, but curiosity and a yearning for some kind of intimacy pulls him back in, like the sun pulling the little Earth back into its orbit. He picks up the jacket and brings it up to his nose, inhaling until Arthur's lingering scent fills his nose and lungs to their full capacity. It's a clean scent, the smell fresh grass in the morning, mixed with an underlying scent that is sweet, rich, and musky, like red wine or dark chocolate. Overwhelmed, Merlin lets the jacket skip through his fingertips, leaning back against the chair with a slump. When Merlin dreams that night, it's of Arthur's comforting voice, lingering scent, and smooth skin being blinded by encompassing light.

Merlin sits next to Will in their spot overlooking the balcony with his knees pulled up to his chest, contemplating the multitude of things on his mind. "Will?" he prods.

"Yeah, Merlin?"

"Do people think I'm handsome?" He doesn't understand the concept of being handsome, really; it is too specific to the sense of sight, unlike the standard word 'beauty'. Beauty Merlin can discern from sound, smell, touch, and taste, but physical beauty that captures the eye in an instant doesn't matter to him. He's as relieved as disappointed, because he knows from hearing it from every acquaintance ever, that humanity has tons of complexes in relation to appearances, and he's doesn't want those. Running his hands over his big ears, he can't call them ugly, as they are not particular displeasing, even in comparison to those of the average size. However, Arthur might. Arthur _can_ be susceptible to physical characteristics, including Merlin's, and Merlin just wants to know _something_, dammit, even if he won't be that good in understanding.

"_I_ think you're handsome, Merlin," Will emphasises, nudging Merlin with his shoulder. Merlin tries not to grimace. On more than one occasion has Will referred to him as a 'stud'.

"Thank you, Will. I know you do, but do other people?" Does _Arthur_? he wishes to ask.

"I don't know about other people," Will mutters, upset, slightly leaning away from Merlin.

"You'll have to ask them." Merlin concedes to his point.

At that moment, Arthur approaches them to his right. It's after school, and Will and Merlin wait for Arthur to find them after the ending of his own class so that they can all walk home together. "Let's go?"

Merlin rushes to get on his feet as fast as possible, grabbing onto Arthur's arm to steady himself. He crosses his right arm with Arthur's left, his heart racing in his chest as it always does in such close proximity to the boy. He's ready to go home and finish their project together, but no one is moving. No one is saying anything, and something about this silence seems stretched and awkward.

"Are you guys there?" he asks.

"Yeah, let's hurry, because I'm starving," Will says, and here: it's his voice that is slightly bitter, slightly offended, and slightly discouraged, all at once. Merlin frowns. Is this because of the fact that Merlin is holding Arthur's arm, not Will's? Jealousy? It must be. Merlin wishes he can fully comfort Will right away, explain to him that it isn't a testimony to their friendship, but only a growing romantic fondness for Arthur, but he can't. Not in front of Arthur. He files away the thought for a later discussion with Will.

"Sweatshirt again, Arthur?" Merlin jokes as they start walking, feeling the velvet in his hand. Arthur hums his consent. He doesn't mind, obviously, as it is something that reminds him vividly of Arthur, useful for even the moments that Arthur is right there next to him.

"Have you finished the project yet?" Will asks as they're nearing his home, two blocks up from Merlin's.

"No, we're finishing it today," Merlin responds with a smile. Truth be told, he's giddy about the prospect of spending another several hours alone with Arthur in his room. He doesn't think anything will happen, unfortunately, but his imagination makes up for it.

"Alright, see you guys," Will says, slapping both Arthur and Merlin on the back before running across the street, towards his own flat.

Sooner or later, Merlin and Arthur are in the former's flat, in his room, buried in stacks of books on Spartans. There is a tension in the room, as if Arthur is just watching Merlin instead of reading on his own. It's a tension Merlin doesn't want to break incorrectly. He wants it to build and build, until it guides both of them together in a beautiful, perfect way. However, Merlin doesn't know when that right moment will come, and he thinks that he might be reading too much into things. Instead of mentioning it or doing anything daring when Arthur crouches next to Merlin's chair, running his fingers over the Braille on the page Merlin is reading, he looks for and finds an excuse to grab Arthur's hand.

"You see these two dots before the letter, Arthur?" he asks him. "It means it's a capital letter. Look, it's written, 'temperature of the' - give me your hand." Arthur complies, reaching for Merlin. Merlin covers Arthur's hand with his own, and feeling the knuckles of Arthur's fingers so prominent in the thousands of active nerve endings in his hand causes energy to course through him, his heart racing at a mile a minute. "The temperature of the tropical climate presents vari - this is a hyphen - variations..." As they read, Merlin guides Arthur's fingers across the page, attempting to make Arthur feel with his sense of touch, instead of take in with his sight. Sight is the sense that overwhelms all others in people. For this reason, Merlin is sometimes grateful that he's blind. He learned to view it as an opportunity to experience the world from a whole different viewpoint: one which the average person will never have the opportunity to experience. Merlin knows that Arthur isn't going to suddenly understand Braille from having his hands skim the page. Instead, he simply hopes that the sensations in his fingers will remind Arthur of Merlin; will make him see a little bit of world through his eyes, metaphorically.

They're sitting in a quiet classroom close to the end of the school day when Arthur taps him on the shoulder from the seat behind, leans closer to his ear, and whispers, "Merlin, I forgot my sweatshirt at your place yesterday."

It takes Merlin a moment to respond, as the lips that slightly graze the sensitive back of his big ears are the most distracting thing in the world at this moment. "Come by after school today."

"I can't," Arthur amends. "I have a dentist appointment."

"I'll bring it for you to school tomorrow," Merlin says, well aware of the persistent smile playing at his lips. He feels dreamy, as if he is about to swoon and fall into the arms of a prince. Prince Arthur hopefully, who has unfortunately already leaned back.

When the period ends, Arthur rushes off with a squeeze to Merlin's bony shoulder. Merlin waits patiently for Will to arrive from his own class to walk him home, not minding the little bit of time he has to daydream about Prince Arthur, his strong arms, and his soft hands. He's a pathetic mess of giggles and smiles, lounging across his desk in what feels like overexertion of the loving heart, by the time Will comes running in.

"Where's Arthur?" he asks.

"He has a dentist appointment," Merlin says with a sigh. "Arthur, Arthur," Will responds fondly.

"What is it?" Merlin asks, curious.

"Nothing."

Merlin realises that this, this moment when Will and Merlin are alone and on the conflicting topic of Arthur, is the opportunity to confess the truth. "Will, I need to talk to you."

"What is it?"

"This isn't the right place to say it," Merlin mutters.

"What's so important that you can't say it here?" Will asks.

"Never mind," Merlin says, sighing with slight irritation. It is so difficult to talk to Will sometimes.

"No, now I'm curious! Tell me," Will insists.

"Is there anyone else around?" Merlin asks, swallowing nervously. Oh lord, oh lord, what if Will is, like Arthur predicted, truly in love with Merlin, and will be upset?

"No, everyone has already left," Will says with a smile. He sits next to Merlin on the desk, leaning in close. "Merlin?" he prods, when Merlin isn't able to find his voice or his courage right away.

Merlin steadies himself, takes a deep breath, and says, "I think I might be in love with Arthur." When there is no response for several long moments, a deep fear resurfaces in the pit of Merlin's stomach, and he asks, "Did you hear what I said?" He really wants some kind of response, even if it's negative, just so he can _know_.

"Yes, I did," Will says in a tone of voice that Merlin has never heard in him before and is unable to decipher. "I just don't know what to say. You're in love with Arthur? Like, romantically? You're gay, Merlin, and you never told me?"

Merlin nods, unable to come up with a clever response to Will's statement of the obvious truth. Will doesn't seem disgusted, just incredulous and freaked out. Merlin wonders what can be so wrong with being gay to make Will's tone of voice shoot up a couple of octaves. All he can hope for is that his lifelong friendship isn't ultimately ruined beyond repair.

Will's mobile rings right at the moment, interrupting them. "I, ah, I have to go right now, actually," he says, stuttering over his words. The shuffling begins again, too. "My mom is calling. I forgot that we have a birthday party for my grandmother at her flat today. I'm sorry for not letting you know earlier. I'll stop by your flat afterwards, okay? I promise that I won't even eat dessert!" Before Merlin has the opportunity to utter a word, Will rushes off from the classroom, and the standard squeak of sneakers hitting the ground until the fade down the hallway.

It's been a while since Merlin has had to walk alone with a cane. Years, even. He doesn't remember how many, exactly. The cane's retractable, and he always keeps it in his backpack, just in case, but he absolutely hates it. No matter how coveted the prospect of independence is for Merlin, he doesn't like the loneliness that inevitably comes with feeling his way around in the darkness. He knows that he can walk back on his own without Will's help, and that's enough for him. He doesn't _need_ support, but he craves it.

He's too conflicted over his own feelings and Will's response to them, that he can't even concentrate on his homework for the next few hours. He sits on his mini sofa, leaning back against the wall of the wardrobe with his hands wrapped tightly around his knees, lost in thought. He doesn't know how long has past when he can hear Will rushing through the door of that flat, but it has felt like forever, and he feels betrayed, disappointed, and pissed off.

"Will, I can't believe you left me alone after what I told you," he begins, rushing to his feet as soon as the door to his room opens. "I know it's not easy to hear that your best friend is gay and is in love with another bloke, but I tell you that, which I have been building my courage to do for the past oh so many years, and you leave me here waiting? And I bet you even ate dessert!" Merlin sighs, all fight falling out of him. "I've been asking myself if I should've told you that I'm in love with Arthur. You've already become the jealous type, much to my puzzlement and concern. I'm sorry that I don't return your feelings for me; I didn't know you had them. What will happen to our friendship now?"

Will has been unusually quiet during the whole speech, which is much uncharacteristic of him. Merlin, however, is lost in his own thoughts and confusion, so he barely notices the footsteps as Will approaches him. Suddenly, there is a press of lips to his; as soon as Merlin's attention snaps to the sensation there, on his chapped lips, they are already gone. Merlin raises his hand automatically, attempting to find himself in the darkness, but it's too late. Will retreats, and the door to his room closes. Soon, his flat is empty once again.

Merlin stumbles backwards, abruptly sitting down as soon as his knees hit the sofa. He can't even get around in his in his own room with this level of conflict reigning over his mind and heart. Will is stubborn, brash, disrespectful at times, and now Merlin is convinced that he has been harbouring affections for him that Merlin never thought possible. However, never did he think that Will is... desperate in this way, to kiss him after a rejection. He groans, letting his head fall back against the wall. Merlin feels terrible for pushing both of them into this mess without even properly expressing himself in the first place.

Another long amount of time passes by, with Merlin trying not to kick himself over and over again for what happened. It's when he's lying on the bed, unable to move his limbs from misery, even though he wants to get up and actually do work, when rustling reappears in his flat. He sits up quickly, snapping his head towards the door as soon as it opens.

"Merlin, I'm sorry," Will starts babbling as soon as he closes the door behind him. Merlin furrows his brows, feeling weird about this whole thing. Will is acting as if he hasn't just been in Merlin's room a few hours ago. Merlin stands up immediately, feeling around his desk. "I wanted to come earlier, but my aunts wouldn't stop singing happy birthday. Then they started asking me about school, about college, about-"

"Will?" Merlin cuts Will off as soon as he realises that there's no velvet sweatshirt lying on his desk or hanging over the back of his chair.

"Yes?" Will asks, pausing in his storytelling.

"Do you see a sweatshirt lying around anywhere?" Merlin asks, biting his bottom lip in already building anticipation.

"No," Will says with what sounds like a shrug, evident in his voice.

"Not even under the bed?" Merlin asks with concern. He can't be too impatient about this. If he even has the right to hope that... that Arthur was the one here earlier, the one who listened to Merlin's distress and silently kissed him in a mysterious sign of the reciprocation of his own feelings, then he needs to have evidence before begins to giggle in excitement.

"No, not even under the bed," Will calls, voice muffled. A grin pulls at the corner of Merlin's lips, and it almost hurts, from how far it stretches across his face. "Listen, Merlin, I'm sorry about leaving you alone after what you confessed to me today," Will says seriously. "I was just taken aback by your confession, because of personal reasons, and... and everything. I'm not angry or disappointed or anything, Merls. Thank you for telling me, really. It was really brave. Will you forgive me for leaving like that?"

When Merlin doesn't responds, Will probes, "Merlin? Are you okay?"

Merlin nods dazedly, heart beating in his chest in time with the butterflies that are trapped in his stomach. "Very. Much better than okay."


End file.
